


I Want To Be (Unbearable)

by jessaverant



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Blood, Catra is kind of creepy in this one, F/F, No one is doing okay in this, Set vaguely during S4, Soulmate AU, Suicidal Ideation, Violence, injured adora, suicidal catra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24825583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessaverant/pseuds/jessaverant
Summary: In a world where your soulmate can be identified in different ways, Catra discovers the hard way that she shares her soulmate's pain. It figures that her soulmate is the one inflicting that pain. | Soulmate AU, set during Season 4
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 190





	I Want To Be (Unbearable)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SeedSerotiny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeedSerotiny/gifts).



> Original prompt this was based on was: "You live in a world where you have a soulmate assigned to you at birth. Whenever your soulmate is in pain, you feel it." With the help of SeedSerotiny, I re-configured it a bit.
> 
> Set vaguely during Season 4.

_“We’re so much joined in the flesh that strangers feel the pain if we stop touching.”_

-Andrea Dworkin

—-

It had happened so fast.

The Horde had ambushed the Rebellion and taken them by surprise near an old, mostly-defunct plantation. This tiny plot of land was pointless in the grand scheme of things; the land was mostly dead and infertile, the topsoil dry, and the people had all but left decades earlier. It wasn’t strategic for either side.

That’s what made this ambush so _fun._ The little pocket of the Rebellion who were here — Adora and her friend with the arrows, with a couple others — were so exposed and unassuming. Why would a faction of the Horde show up _here?_ What was the point?

“Hey, Adora,” Catra purred from a tree branch, and a chill of excitement tingled down Catra’s spine as Adora whipped around in confusion.

“Catra?!” Adora sputtered. She spun in place, suddenly surrounded by Horde soldiers, some accompanied with skiffs. “What—”

_What was the point?_

The Horde was making huge strides daily; Hordak was in the field, pushing them farther and farther with Catra’s guidance. Double Trouble was rotting the Rebellion from the inside out. And yet the Horde sent top soldiers to ambush a tiny plantation in the middle of nowhere.

It was messing with Adora. It was draining her. _That_ was the point, and Catra was giddy.

And messing with Adora was always so _easy_. Catra barely had to stand on the branch and Adora was all eyes on her, completely distracted. It was convenient, and Catra _loved_ it. She loved the chase, the desperate way Adora followed her every move. It was Catra’s favorite place to be; the center of Adora’s attention. The eye of the hurricane, sewing chaos in her outer reach.

(The way in which she craved Adora was deadly. She didn’t care.)

Catra darted deeper into the trees, and Adora — or rather, She-Ra — was suddenly behind her. Catra flung herself against a smooth, flat rock and used the momentum to push back and over, extending her arms to try to rip the sword from Adora’s hands, and instead had come into direct contact with Adora’s shoulders. Adora, to Catra’s surprise, had followed the momentum and had attempted to strike her out of the air.

Catra dug her claws into Adora’s shoulders, just behind her shoulder armor, tearing right through that weird magic fabric and into her flesh. It hadn’t been her intention, but the outcome was all the same to Catra.

What she hadn’t accounted for was the sudden, searing pain in her _own_ shoulders. It caught her off guard and caused her to stumble back into a tree, surprised. The _slam_ into the trunk caused her back to spasm and knocked the wind out of her, falling unexpectedly to the ground. She lifted herself up as Adora turned, blood on her fingertips from where she reached back to Catra’s claw marks.

“Wh—” Catra said, her shoulders searing in pain. She could feel the eight distinct marks along the outer part of her spine, right where she had dug into Adora. “W-what the hell?”

“Catra!” Adora spat, and she ran at Catra with her sword raised. She took a running leap and raised the sword above her head, slamming it down in the spot Catra had just been crouching in. Catra had dodged, but it had taken a second longer than it should have, and the edge of the sword caught Catra’s calf.

The cut wasn’t deep — but in combination with the burning on her back, the stinging was unbearable. Catra faltered and fell onto her side, hissing as she drew her injured leg behind her, all the fur on her body on edge. Adora spun on her heel, her ridiculous hair twirling in a sweat-soaked veil, and she took a staggered step towards Catra.

Catra bared her teeth, unmoving. Adora was panting, a streak of blood across her face. She looked beautifully feral, holding _that sword_ close to her chest. Guarded.

“Why are you _here?”_ Adora asked. “This place isn’t advantageous for the Horde!” Catra scowled. Her leg was starting to bleed.

“How do you know what’s advantageous for me?” Catra spat back. “Hordak lets me do whatever I want! And I _want_ this plantation! _”_ With that, Catra pushed off the tree to her left and swung around through the grass, coming up behind Adora with a snarl only to be met with the sword’s blade once again. Adora had spun on her heel and had fallen to one knee, her other ankle buckling. Catra reached out and scratched at Adora’s arm. Her claws left two distinct cuts before Adora managed to push her off with the sword’s momentum, and Catra tumbled through the unkempt grass. She barely hid her gasp as her arm began to burn. Catra hissed again, more at herself than Adora, because _why was this happening?_

She barely had a moment to register the pain when she was suddenly pulled forward by her chest as she was lassoed with a thin, golden rope. Adora was holding onto the other end, and had pinned Catra’s arms to her sides when she wasn’t paying attention. The lasso tightened so quickly that it cut off Catra’s breath, causing her to gasp. She fell back down the ground.

_This was not how this fight was supposed to go._

“Catra,” Adora said in a harried voice. “You’re not fighting like you usually do.” Her voice was strained, as if she too were out of breath. “I don’t know what your goal here is. But there’s nothing here for the Horde.” Catra scowled and wiggled upright, arms still pinned to her sides.

“Like I _said_ ,” Catra said, “You don’t _know_ what I’m doing. You don’t _get_ to call the shots anymore, _A-do-ra.”_ Catra spoke each syllable as if it were its own word, turning her name into a phrase. “Maybe I’m just here to see how much worse at fighting you are.” Adora let out a wry laugh.

“You think I’m a bad fighter?” she said, shoving her flowing hair out of her face. “Fine. Come at me.” The rope vanished in a bright light, turning into the sword in her hands. Adora rose to her feet, eyes locked on Catra. As she stood, Catra couldn’t help but notice Adora was favoring her right leg.

Catra used the strength of her good leg and pushed herself off the ground, launching directly at Adora, colliding with her left side and toppling them both to the grass. Catra managed to pin Adora down, using her hips for leverage and digging her feet into the dirt to steady herself. Adora wiggled beneath her, and Catra would be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying the feeling. How many times had she imagined this very scenario, in the deepest part of her mind?

Catra raised her arm above her head, claws lengthened, and slashed downwards at Adora. Adora managed to move at the last second and Catra dug into the other’s side, deep enough that her claws were dripping with blood when she pulled them out. Deep enough that Adora cried out in shock and pain, her She-Ra form flickering dangerously beneath Catra. For one moment, Catra felt light. She was finally, _finally_ going to defeat She-Ra once and for all.

The moment didn’t last long.

A deep, tearing ache of torn muscle and cut flesh exploded within Catra’s side. It blossomed down her thigh and up her chest, into her shoulder, every vein alight. It was _blinding,_ pulsating through Catra like poison. She felt acid in her throat and thought she was going to vomit from the pain. Any pleasure Catra derived from this fight evaporated into smoke.

Adora shoved Catra off of her and pushed herself away, digging her boots into the ground. She was panting with pain, eyes now shining with tears. Catra swallowed the venom in her throat and managed to get to her knees, fighting to hide her trembling.

“What the hell did you _do_ to me?” she cried. Every wound she inflicted on Adora she was feeling herself. It had finally clicked.

“Look what you’ve done to _me!”_ Adora said, using her sword to push herself upwards. The wound on her side was deep red and shiny, her perfect white uniform stained in bright spotlets of scarlet.

Catra folded into herself, the pulsating in her side strengthening with every beat of her heart. She glanced upwards to see She-Ra’s form vanish, and a pale Adora lay in her place. The color was completely gone from her face and she looked faint, eyes becoming unfocused. Catra’s throat tightened.

“Catra!” A voice tore through the woods.

Both Catra and Adora looked up at the voice as Scorpia crashed through the trees on a skiff, looking weary. She lowered it to the ground and Catra stumbled forwards, allowing Scorpia to pull her up onto the skiff. Scorpia quickly glanced from Catra to Adora, her eyes following the blood trail in the dirt between them.

“Get us out of here!” Catra barked, and Scorpia obliged, although she sent a worried glance at Adora. Adora was sitting up against her sword, still white as a sheet but her eyes were narrowed and focused on them as the skiff took off. Catra couldn’t help but feel a bit of relief in her chest.

“Should we—just leave her there?” Scorpia asked. Catra wiped the blood from her face.

“She’ll live,” Catra murmured. “I’m sure her friends are gonna be there any second.” As if on cue, she saw one of the Rebellion fighters rush to Adora’s side. Catra scoffed and rolled onto her side as they scurried away.

—-

It wasn’t until they were most of the way back that it finally made sense for Catra. She had heard, or maybe had been told, once a long time ago that soulmates were an integral part of life on Etheria. Naturally, as a Horde soldier, she had been discouraged from pursuing finding her soulmate, and since she wasn’t born with any sort of mark, she figured she didn’t have one. Years later, she and Adora had found a book about Etherian soulmates and all the ways they manifested; marks, songs, voices—and pain.

She had felt Adora’s pain. She was still feeling Adora’s pain.

_And Adora had felt hers._ The weight of it was crushing her.

As soon as the skiff was docked, Catra fled from the docking bay into the depths of the Fright Zone. It hurt to run, but it hurt more to walk. Scorpia tried to engage her but she ignored all attempts at speaking, instead trying to get as far away as possible from _everyone._

When she was finally, blissfully alone, she broke. Her shoulders, her arm, her side —everything _burned_ with pain. The ghost of claws born into her skin, drawing tendrils of blood, soaking her through.

Catra was on her knees, arms wrapped around herself, body trembling. Bile filled her throat and she coughed, spittle and vomit on her lips and she released it all, the pain was so _unbearable._ She was already dehydrated and weakened from fighting; her entire body pulled taught. Catra ripped her mask off and tossed it aside, coughing and running her hands through sweat-soaked hair. She could feel the dry blood already there, marking her like an ugly bruise.

Catra pulled at her top, pulling up the burning side, waiting to see a wound. Her side was bare. No deep gashes, no shining blood, nothing. Catra balled her hands into fists and closed her eyes as tears trickled down her face. She wanted to scream but didn’t have the energy. The pain would be too great.

“It’s not _fair_ ,” Catra whispered. She wiped at her mouth. “It’s not fair!” She tried to yell but her throat was too raw.

_Adora is her soulmate._

Somewhere in Bright Moon, Catra knew Adora was feeling the pain of Catra’s cut leg. The pain of her battered back, where she had taken the brunt of her fall. The squeeze of the lasso around her bruised ribs.

_Of course_ Adora is her soulmate. Of course! It was the cherry topping on her shitty life. It was almost _poetic._ Adora, the one person who drew her ire, was her soulmate. And of course — _of course_ their way of finding out is through mutual pain. This is just how it is with them, isn’t it?

Catra’s nose suddenly filled with the smell of her own sick from earlier and stepped backwards, tripping on her unsteady feet and landing on her back. The hazy evening sky was vast above her, a hot sticky wind blowing over her body and picking up stray strands of her hair.

“I want to die,” she murmured. The building sighed beneath her in response. Her side continued to throb.

If she killed Adora, would she die, too? What a comforting thought, dying together in a pool of Catra’s own self-hate. Catra closed her eyes and envisioned it; Adora collapsing under the killing blow, Catra following quickly afterwards, snuffed out in one blessed huff.

Catra lay with her eyes closed until the sun had completely set, and moons were high in the sky. When she opened her eyes again, she realized her the pain in her side had greatly diminished. It was still there but had lessened to a slight ache. She sat up.

Her face was stained with tears and blood, her hair dry and brittle. She was covered in dirt and blood stains, and her leg was starting to look questionable at best. The cut was deeper than she realized, and it was scabbed over in a foul green color. Catra rose to her feet, retrieved her mask from the corner it had landed on, and put it back over her hair to tame the wild strands.

Adora is her soulmate.

This fact would either kill her, or Adora. Catra took a deep breath, allowing her chest to expand through the bruises.

“I love you, Adora,” she said to no one. “I’m going to kill you.” And she took off into the night.


End file.
